Thy Mother

Forgive This Drivel - Poem by Thy Mother

The consequencesOf a poemWith mixed tensesDrinking jerobaumIn shady placesWith tight-knotted laces; Ready to runTo avoid the gunOf the law, Or a brawl, With cockroachesThat crawl, Up the skinSharks with finsSwarn the courtsJudges boastWith their powerIn the face of justiceSubtely cower.

A Christian's cryFor securityThus they pry, The Muslim RajGoes to hajjReturns full of grudgeCoy superiorityRuns amuck.They procastinateNever masterbate, Believe in fateWith insatiable faithLove the bookThat tookA lookAt non-believersUnder-achievesAnd set outWith meat cleaversTo the houses Of the louses.With the moral lost in transition